Radiance
by Fireflies on a Lake
Summary: Female!Obi-wan/Anakin oneshot. "She's found the name for it. She senses it clearly now. In the Force, she can almost...taste it. Anakin's deep, and strong feelings for her... And yet, despite herself, all she can think about in the present moment, is how Anakin called her beautiful"


**Disclaimer:** Star wars belongs to Disney and George Lucas. I make no profit from this.

 **notes:** this is set during the clone wars. falls into the calamity verse, but can be read separately.

* * *

 **Radiance**

Sometimes Obi-wan has no idea how she manages to entangle herself in these absurd situations. Now that she considers it maybe she is too polite. After all if she had only refused the Chief's insistence that she take place in the village festivities, then maybe she would never have been subjected to this whimsical notion of a victory celebration.

She envies Anakin as he was able to escape partaking in the revelry, citing the need for urgent maintenance repairs on their shuttle as the reason for his absence. Obi-wan is only half-heartedly complaining though, as she is ever grateful that her former padawan is not here witness her take part in this farce.

Seeing as one hero of the great battle was detained, the Chief had set his sights on Obi-wan. Not wishing to offend their allies, she had acquiesced to taking part in the events, without full knowledge of what such a request entailed. It so happened that the victory celebration coincided with the spring festival, an auspicious and sacred day of the tribe's calendar.

Hence why Obi-wan finds herself in her current predicament.

She's been coerced into wearing a purple contraption of a dress, and her hair hangs down lightly over her shoulders, decorated with an obscene flowery ornament that the villagers call a garland. All due to the courtesy of the gaggle of women and young maidens that now surround her, waiting in anticipation for the music to begin.

According to the local traditions, on the day of the spring festival any young, unmarried woman is required to dance as a tribute and a rite to the season. Unfortunately for Obi-wan, the Chief believes that she classifies as part of this demographic. Obi-wan almost curses her Force-sensitivity, due to her strong connection to the Force, the Jedi Master looks younger than she really is.

She stands at the ready in the circle formation created by the women, poised to make a fool of herself. Biaroni, the Chief's daughter occupies the position to Obi-wan's left, and graces her with an encouraging smile which does nothing to pacify the Jedi Master. Obi-wan is not nervous, she's confident that she knows the steps Biaroni taught her earlier that afternoon. They are simple enough to remember, in essence its nothing more than repetition, and timing of certain body movements, similar to lightsaber forms. She's more exasperated than anything, and Anakin's apprentice is not helping to improve her dour mood.

Ahsoka is perched on the base of a nearby tree, her montrals twitching in her effort to contain her laughter. The little togruta is lucky enough that she is too young to take part in the festivities, otherwise she would have joined the congregation.

When Obi-wan catches the child's eye, she resists the temptation to shake her head. Ahsoka loses her composure, and bursts out into a fit of high pitched giggles. It reminds Obi-wan to have a little chat with the youngling after this foolery is over, the last thing she needs is Anakin hearing what is sure to be a very convoluted rendition of tonight's events, should Ahsoka ever get the chance to tell her master.

Obi-wan sighs. The things she does in the name of peace and the Republic. Well at least there's one upside, Anakin's not here to witness this. She's not quite sure how she would explain this episode.

A chime fills the air, as the musicians begin to play the folk tune that will accompany the dancers. Despite her misgivings Obi-wan cannot deny that the melody is pleasant. Deep and gentle, it lulls both the audience and the dancers into the forth coming performance. And yet there is something else that underlies it, something that cannot be fully articulated into words, a subtle message that this is more than just a dance of the people. It's ancient, and sacred. Obi-wan gets the sense that she is a part of something greater at work. The Force, perhaps. She is not entirely sure, but there is one thing she knows. This is a tradition that demands respect.

Reverently Obi-wan raises her arms in the manner of which Biaroni taught her, and casts her face to the night sky. Glints of the firelight are lost to the endless constellations that spray across the galactic tapestry above.

Is it just her or have the stars never looked brighter?

* * *

Anakin believes he's stayed away long enough. He doesn't feel guilty for leaving Obi-wan to handle the formalities. She's in her element after all. Negotiation is her speciality. Anakin admits that he'd be more of a hindrance than a help. He'd left Ahsoka with Obi-wan to learn the finer arts of diplomacy. He trusts that Obi-wan has things well in hand.

But now he's hungry from labouring over maintenance repairs, and is looking forward to a meal that doesn't consist of ration bars, or the military-class slop that passes for food in the mess hall.

As he traverses through the forest undergrowth, he spots the village fires burning in the distance. A beacon amidst the darkness. Not that a Jedi needs it, when they have the Force to enhance their night vision. The tantalizing smell of meat roasting over an open fire makes his stomach rumble loudly. Lost in the allure of a decent meal Anakin picks up his pace.

When he reaches the outskirts of the village, he is briefly distracted by the twirling figures in the corner of his eye. Anakin ignores them as he observes Ahsoka reclining on the base of a tree, well away from the gathered crowds of merry villagers. His padawan seems to take no notice of him, her blue gaze is fixated on the spectacle that has drawn the attention of the villagers, and her dangling feet sway in time with the primitive music filling the clearing.

"Ahsoka," he says.

His padawan does not appear to listen, enraptured by whatever she was seeing.

"Ahsoka," he repeats, irritation colouring his tone. No response.

Frustrated by both the hunger pangs in his stomach, and Ahsoka's lack acknowledgement, Anakin moves to stand over his inattentive padawan. His large silhouette eclipses the glare from the firelight, as Ahsoka looks up at her master.

"Huh?"

Her hand comes up to cover her eyes, just as Anakin crosses his arms over his chest.

"Oh! Master it's you!" Ahsoka says in recognition.

Anakin merely raises an eyebrow.

"What's got you so distracted?" Anakin asks, his curiosity piqued.

"Them," she answers, pointing to the spectacle behind Anakin who gives them a passing glance over his shoulder, before he regards his padawan once more. He can't understand what all the big fuss is about, it's just a bunch of dancing girls.

"I don't see the big deal," he remarks.

Ahsoka sends him a look that suggests he's crazy, which is pointedly ignored by Anakin. Food now, reprimand padawan later.

"Where's Obi-wan?" he inquires offhandedly. He can sense her in the nearby vicinity. She's probably talking to the tribal leaders or something.

Ahsoka gives him an incredulous look, as if he's missing something entirely obvious. Anakin frowns.

"Well?" he prompts.

No verbal response is forthcoming. A few seconds later, Ahsoka points once more to the dancing girls in the centre of the clearing. Anakin exhales deeply, in no mood for his padawans games. He shifts his body part-way to observe the spectacle, fully intending to brush it off as something trivial, but stops short.

His jaw drops at the sight of Obi-wan.

It's her alright, he'd recognise his best friend anywhere. Only tonight, she's...different.

She's adorned in a _dress_ , her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she's _dancing_ in the centre of the clearing.

"Master Kenobi was pressured into it by the Chief. She didn't want to cause any offence, so she went along with it," Ahsoka harps on.

Anakin registers none of it, as his mind is completely focused elsewhere in a monotony of thoughts pertaining to his best friend.

Obi-wan. Dress. Dancing.

And he can't help but think why he hasn't noticed it before now. His best friend has never looked more beautiful to him.

* * *

Obi-wan is enjoying this more than she thought she would. More than she _should_. There is a certain escapist quality to dancing that she finds favourable. It's like meditation, she's present in body, but not in spirit. Only instead of pondering the mysteries of the Force, or attempting to clear her mind, she's simply letting go, and savouring the moment.

Jedi should be above such mindless frivolity, but the thought is lost as she twirls in time with the rhythm, her feet pivoting as she flings her arms wide, like every other woman in this clearing. She is one of many, and yet she feels as if it were just herself and the universe. The Force flows through her in a way that she's never known before, strengthening her with its life-giving energy, and she gives herself over to it. Time seems to lose all its meaning.

The Force is everywhere, in every living thing. From the soil at her feet, to the people around her, to the very centre of her being.

A hand interlinks with her own, and Obi-wan looks up to meet the eyes of Biaroni. They share a smile, as they swiftly detract their hands from each other, and leap back. Together they take the four steps that bring them into the wider circle of women. They twist their bodies, and angle their arms as the circle diverges into two distinct lines of dancers.

As Obi-wan joins the endless rotation of dancing figures, in a repetitive cycle of the give and take, of step, and counter-step, it crosses her mind that she's never felt more alive.

* * *

Anakin's never seen her like this before. So buoyant and carefree. Unweighed down by her duties.

Not a general, not a Jedi, but a _woman_. His keen eyes miss nothing, not the way in which she arches her neck, nor the way in which her curves are accentuated by the swaying of hips and how she smiles gently as the loses herself in the music.

His gaze follows her as she weaves in and out of the line of twirling women. Disappearing and reappearing in his sight at regular intervals, as if to tease him, like some wood sprite the superstitious villagers warned him about.

He can't quite fathom that it's _Obi-wan_ before him.

He's seen her as her the serene, or stern Jedi Master. He's seen her irritated on more than one occasion (usually at him). He's even witnessed her rare moments of self-doubt.

Anakin's certain that he's been privy to all facets of her personality, clearly he's wrong.

Unless his eyes are deceiving him, she's having _fun_ , a concept he never thought to associate with her.

Her cheeks are flushed with mirth, and her eyes contain a feverish cast to them. Even the angles of her face seem softer somehow. A refreshing change from her typical Jedi reserve.

This woman is more approachable, more _human_. Anakin likes it.

In the Force, she flares brightly in his attuned senses.

Light, warmth, happiness.

She is simply...radiant.

* * *

Obi-wan feels like she is floating. There is no other way to describe the sensation. The Force guides her every step, every twist, and every leap.

She immerses herself in its current, only to be swept away by the euphoria of the surrounding dancers. Obi-wan is simply one with the music, and the music is one with her.

When the melody rises to a crescendo, she spins on her feet, lifts her skirt with one hand, and extends the other towards the audience.

Only to almost freeze at the sight of Anakin leaning against a tree, a huge looming shadow in his dark Jedi robes. As if doused with ice cold water, Obi-wan is harshly pulled back to reality, and she remembers why she is engaging in such a ridiculous past time.

It's her duty.

Her steps become methodical, as she acts on memory rather than instinct.

She wants nothing more than to face away from Anakin, but she can't due to her position amongst the dancers, unless of course she wishes to fall out of sync with the other performers. So she opts to avoid direct eye contact with him whenever she is able.

He does not appear smug like she expects him to be; rather he looks at her strangely.

Maybe she's only imaging it but something in his visage seems... intense. On edge. It makes her feel uneasy, as Anakin's piercing blue gaze remains focused on her constantly moving figure.

Perspiration runs down her temples. She hears her own heart rate pounding in her ear drums, in time with the percussion of the tribal music, and feels the blood rushing to her head. The Jedi Master cannot so recall being so light-headed.

Obi-wan is so preoccupied by her musings that she almost fails to notice the hands of women from both sides reaching out to her in a bid for her to hold their palms against each other. It is only by the grace of Jedi reflexes that she is able to join palms with them in time.

Deliberately shoving all thoughts of Anakin to the back of her mind, Obi-wan counts the steps as she carries them out in what she hopes is the correct order.

One step forward, three steps back, raise hands, twirl, link hands once again, leap forward. Dart left, caper right. Rotate until she's shoulder-to-shoulder with Biaroni. Repeat.

The rhythm becomes monotonous, and Obi-wan feels as if she's merely plodding along in a mass of bodies, and flaring skirts.

As she flings her arms out in some hapless gesture, Obi-wan's eyes are once again drawn upwards to Anakin's. He's still watching her. Shivers tingle down her spine, and she's not entirely sure why.

Luckily she is granted a reprieve when the dance requires her to pivot and face the opposite direction. It's not all that effective though, when she knows that Anakin's gaze is boring into her back.

She has a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Obi-wan's raised her walls again. He can sense her wariness in the Force. Every step has become mechanical, rather than natural. Her lips are curled downwards, and her eye brows are narrowed in concentration as she calculates her next move.

To most people Obi-wan appears no different. Anakin's not most people, and he takes a certain pride in the belief that he knows her better than anyone.

For he knows, no matter how much she will try to deny it that Obi-wan is _embarrassed_. He cannot resist the urge to laugh.

Obi-wan is embarrassed!

It's an unexpectedly endearing notion.

That Obi-wan is not as self-contained as she would have everyone believe.

* * *

She's relieved when the dance draws to a close. The performers disperse after a round of applause from the crowd, and the Chief beckons her over to his fire to offer her his congratulations, and platitudes.

Obi-wan is taken back when the Chief thrusts a platter of roasted meat into her hands. She looks down at the proffered item questionably before glancing up at the Chief. Sparing her the confusion, he indicates to something behind Obi-wan. Curiously she follows his line of sight, only to become rigid as she spots Anakin and Ahsoka settled around the base of a great tree.

Ahsoka, predictably is bowled over with laughter, while Anakin leans his hip against the trunk, his arms crossed over his chest in an all-too-familiar way and his expression is unreadable.

She promptly turns back to the Chief, who gives her a gentle smile.

"Good luck young Jedi," he says vaguely, before inclining his head, and meandering away. She stares after him momentarily, before emitting a deep sigh. She can't avoid Anakin forever, as much she would like to. Might as well get the humiliation over with. No point in delaying the inevitable.

She approaches them slowly, keeping her attention on the contents of the platter. When she reaches them, Ahsoka springs from her makeshift seat, and converges on her with a grin.

"You were amazing Master Kenobi!" she compliments.

The younglings blue eyes are wide and exuberant, as her body quakes with irrepressible energy. She wonders, not for the first time, how Anakin contends with such a lively padawan. To think that she could have been Obi-wan's padawan, had Anakin refused to accept the youngling as his student.

Obi-wan is not able to fully prevent a grimace from spreading across her features, and she's sure her cheeks feel a little more heated than usual.

"Oh, well, thank you young one that's very kind of you to say so," she replies tentatively.

Ahsoka beams up at her, just as the pair are interrupted by Anakin, and both turn to regard him. Anakin pushes himself off the tree, and walks over to them.

"Ahsoka why don't you go find out what those villagers are up to over there?" he suggests, gesturing a hand to a group of nearby villagers.

The padawan, knowing a dismissal when she hears one, takes it as her cue to leave.

"Sure thing Master," she says, before trudging off in the direction indicated by her master. Obi-wan's gaze follows the girls retreating figure, before the sound of Anakin clearing his throat prompts her to look up at him.

"Obi-wan," Anakin says.

His eyes glow as the lantern light is reflected in his irises, while the rest of his features are cast in shadow. Obi-wan is surprised that his face contains no hint of mockery or humour, but rather another emotion. Something she can't quite name. The Force offers no answer, Anakin's aura is elusively dim. Strangely calm. Almost...soothing. It's a stark change from the whirling storm that usually rages within him.

It's not normal for Anakin to be so detached, and it throws her off balance. Not wanting to lose her composure, or brace the subject of her most recent venture with the locals and their festivities, she holds out the platter of food toward Anakin.

His stomach rumbles loudly, and she smiles lightly.

"Hungry?" she asks, knowing full well that he's famished. Anakin always works up a huge appetite after working on repairs.

"Starving," Anakin admits, grabbing the platter out of her hands.

"Everything repaired?" she inquires, more out of politeness than anything else. Of course the maintenance repairs are finished, Anakin's a prodigy where mechanics are concerned. She is merely trying to keep him from commenting on her article of clothing.

"All done. You know me Master. I don't do things by half-measures," Anakin replies, giving her a look that says that she shouldn't even have to ask.

 _Isn't that the truth_ , she silently agrees. Anakin plunges full-steam ahead into anything he does, often to Obi-wan's chagrin.

Nothing lasts forever, and it is not long before Anakin jumps the blaster and broaches the subject of her most recent cultural experience.

"Obi-wan...," Anakin begins as he appraises her obvious wardrobe change.

She is quick to undermine him, and fixes him with a withering look. "Don't say anything," she says sternly.

"I wasn't going to..." he starts to protest, but Obi-wan cuts him off before he can elaborate. She holds up a hand.

"Just so you know it was not wholly my choice. It was all for the sake of the mission," she tells him curtly.

Anakin, wisely doesn't say a word, just stares at her with his mouth part way open.

"Now if you excuse me I am off to locate my Jedi robes," she says, and steps around Anakin's massive figure, determined to find her missing items of clothing, and end this unproductive conversation.

"Obi-wan," Anakin calls softly from behind her.

She ceases in her stride at the sound of her name, and shifts half-way to study Anakin.

"What Anakin? If this is about..." she starts irritably.

"Obi-wan," Anakin says her name again, his voice firm. At the increased volume of his voice, Obi-wan falls silent.

"You look beautiful," he says simply.

Obi-wan's jaw drops open slightly, and she straightens her posture in an attempt to regain some semblance of dignity.

"I..well...thank you," she manages poorly, almost lost for words. Anakin has an uncanny habit of catching her off guard at the most inopportune times.

Instead of laughing or smirking as Anakin is often wont to do at times like these, he stares at her. Those distinctive blue eyes burn into her with an intensity she's only witnessed in him once before, only the look hadn't been directed at her.

It had been directed at Padme Amidala, the Senator of Naboo. _Physical attraction_. She's found the name for it. She senses it clearly now. In the Force, she can almost...taste it. Anakin's deep, and strong feelings for her echo in the Living Force, as if it wants her to acknowledge it. Why didn't she sense it before?

 _Desire, Temptation, Longing..._

She slams up a granite mental barrier between her and Anakin's feelings, severing herself from their Force bond so she's able to think clearly.

Blast it! This cannot be happening.

Anakin, her former padawan, and best friend is _attracted_ to her, merely because she donned a dress! It's ridiculous, what can come from wearing a skirt!

Mind reeling as she considers the consequences of such a sentiment, and what it means for her bond with Anakin, she quickly walks away before things become more complicated.

Anakin's attracted to her, and she's not quite sure how she feels about it.

There are so many unpleasant ramifications for the both of them should this escalate further. And yet, despite herself, all she can think about in the present moment, is how Anakin called her _beautiful_.

And she's touched by it more than she'll ever care to admit.


End file.
